


Gently in the Cold Dark Earth

by FrancesRose



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is a Saint, Barbara Gordon Appreciation, Bruce Needs a Hug, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2020-05-20 02:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19367890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrancesRose/pseuds/FrancesRose
Summary: He didn’t typically notice those sorts of things.The way she hummed as she tied her hair into a knot. How she screwed up her face before launching into a triple somersault. The little self-satisfied exhale she’d make when she landed her routine.He didn’t typically think about her as anything more than an aide; as a coworker, really.But lately he had begun to lose focus in the gym.





	1. Open Up My Eager Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I have sadly found hardly any Bruce/Barbara works anywhere so instead of wishing someone would write the perfect story for me, I decided to do it myself. I hope you like what I've got going on so far. Enjoy!

He typically began his days at five in the morning by heading down to the cave and running on the track. The early morning hours allowed for him to start before his mind could catch up to the movement. He would just continue running until his stomach started to churn from its own emptiness. By that time, Alfred usually had an assortment of eggs and toast prepared along with a pot of hot coffee to bring clarity to his mind once again. Bruce tended to read over briefings and research the latest stocks for his day job as he began to feel more like himself and less like a 220-pound lump in sweats and a damp shirt. After that, he would clean up and be on his way to Wayne Tower to start his daily uphill battle of transforming Wayne Enterprises into something his parents would be proud of.

Bruce liked his morning like this. He needed the quiet and the routine in order to prepare for the long day of fighting with the board of directors. And he especially needed the calm to ready him for his stormy nights watching over the city of Gotham.

He awoke one rainy Monday morning in October to the sound of his phone alarm blaring on his bedside table. Still in a groggy haze, he slipped out of his sheets and tried on a pair of grey sweatpants and one of his old white tees from his Princeton days. He shuffled into the master bathroom and began to brush his teeth, avoiding his reflection while doing so. After lacing up his shoes, he walked through the halls and down the stairs into the expansive white kitchen and retrieved a water bottle from the cupboard. Once filled with the ice-cold water, he stepped into the first-floor study, played the dissonant progression of keys on the old grand piano, and entered the hidden elevator behind the swinging bookcase. He leaned against the back of the compartment and shut his eyes for a moment as the elevator plunged quickly down into the dark earth. 

As the seconds passed, he began to notice the faint sound of music carrying through the shaft. The prominent sound of a drum set dissuaded him from believing the culprit to be Alfred cleaning the Batcave with the company of music, but then again, Alfred was constantly surprising him with his eccentric tastes. Maybe Dick left the stereo on in the gym, he thought. But hadn’t he gone up to his rooms before Bruce had finished analyzing data in the Cave the night before? Bruce slid out of the elevator quietly hoping to remain out of anyone’s sight just in case someone unwelcome had slipped down here in the night. As he walked across the suspended metal pathway leading to the hub of the cave, he began to hear someone singing with more clarity than before. Reaching for a spare set of Batarangs he kept beneath his main console’s desk, he approached the metal doors leading to the gym. He quickly punched in the code to open up the door and stepped inside, weapons at the ready. 

“… I just can’t look… it’s killing me… they’re taking control…”

“Barbara?”

“JEALOUSY… TURNING SAINTS INTO THE SEA…”

“What the hell are you—”

“SWIMMING THROUGH SICK LULLLLLLABIES…”

“BARBARA!”

The redhead whipped her head around and her face quickly went through a range of shock, confusion, and utter embarrassment in two seconds.

“Of course you wake up at five in the goddamn morning,” she said more to herself than anyone else.


	2. Tired Trying to See

Barbara turned her back to the hulking man in the doorway and set her dumbbells on the floor. She continued toward the wall at the back of the colossal room and reached for the remote.

“CAUSE I’M MISTER BRIGHTSI—”

“I thought you’d have soundproofed the cave, what with the whole secret identity thing being, you know, a secret,” she grumbled as she craned her neck to face him.

“This place is soundproof from the ground up, but the thought never crossed my mind that I’d have to make sure sound never reached the elevator,” retorted Bruce as he flicked the Batarangs onto a metal table. He walked towards the center of the training arena and picked up the two weights with ease. “What are you doing down here, don’t you have school in an hour?”

“In two hours, in fact, so I felt my time would be best spent down here training before anyone could disturb me.” Barbara crossed her black Under Armour-covered arms over her chest and eyed him intently. “What are you doing down here? I figured you wouldn’t be up for a few more hours. I seem to recall that sulking on gargoyles until at least two in the morning was part of your nightly routine.” 

He drew his shoulders back and held himself a little taller. “I have certain responsibilities to uphold.”

She inclined her brows. “What you have are bags under your eyes.”

Bruce averted his gaze. “If you don’t mind, Barbara, I’m going to get started with my running now,” he said as he placed the dumbbells back on the rack and started onto the track surrounding the training area. Barbara stood in the center of the oval shaped floor. Suspended from the ceiling above the black, rubber flooring hung three punching bags of varying sizes. Beside her rested a few medicine balls along with a stack of jump ropes thrown haphazardly beside the weights rack. 

Barbara stepped away from the equipment and headed toward the open section of the training ground. She began to stretch, folding her entire body in half and letting her many years of gymnastics training take control. She began to wonder, when was the last time she had had a conversation with Bruce? One that had nothing to do with crime or new tech or training. How long had it been since she had asked him about his day, since he had asked her how her dad was doing? Any semblance of normality was foreign within this house, but she hadn’t thought about how distant they had gotten in quite some time.

She tugged on the elastic holding her bun in place. Barbara tousled her hair and began to dexterously form a French braid along the center of her head. Had it been as far back as the time they were nothing more to each other than table mates at some big-wig charity auction; when she was just Barbara and he was Gotham’s Golden Boy? God, she must have only been sixteen then, and yet he still took the time to ask her how her classes were and listen to her go on and on about how she thought coding should be a mandatory subject in school. He’d even promised to propose it to the superintendent once the district’s next fiscal year rolled around and they’d start asking him for a contribution. 

She finished with her hair and glanced over at him as he paced around the track. The way he moved with such fluidity and precision was mesmerizing, almost as if he had invented running itself. Her heart began to ache as she remembered how tired he had looked up close. She knew that the level of exhaustion permeating his skin was deeper than one that could be fixed by a mug of Alfred’s perfect Italian roast. 

Batman needed to take care of himself, and if she had any say in the matter, he had to do it before the fatigue took him over entirely.

She stood, crossing over to the furthest edge of the mat and began to focus. She then sprung into one of her tumbling routines, a flip here, a dive roll there, and ended with her signature twist on a double layout. The feeling of soaring was like a breath of fresh air; it stoked the ever-lit flame of determination that was nestled in her chest. That was the sensation that she craved, it woke her up and prepared her for her morning schedule. 

She finished up her workout with a stint at the punching bag and exited the concrete room. On her way out, she grabbed her phone off the table along with a towel and her keys. Barbara entered the locker room inside the gym and sped through her morning shower. She quickly changed into her black skinny jeans and an oversized red knit sweater. She split her hair into two tight French braids and put on her glasses. She laced up her white sneakers, grabbed her large backpack, and opened the heavy metal door.

Sparing a parting look in Bruce’s direction, Barbara paused her advance towards the main exit. 

“Bruce,” she called. “Have a cup of Alfred’s hot tea for me today, okay?”

“Enjoy your day at school, Barbara.”

She almost smiled as she eyed him for a second longer, but decided she was late enough for one day. She stepped down the metal staircase in the main hub, the echoing clangs of sole on steel reverberating throughout the chamber. She climbed into her white Camry parked at the bottom of the cave and sped off through the hidden exit. 

Barbara had begun her second year of college at Gotham University where she was studying computer science and criminology, not that she had learned anything in the past year that she didn’t already know. Her father’s expertise and unstoppable desire to mentor coupled with her own experience after dark put her miles ahead of her other peers in class.

She had to hurry to stop by the apartment to pick up her computer and textbooks that she had so carelessly forgotten on her desk earlier that morning. 

She still lived in the cozy brownstone with her father downtown. She appreciated being able to sit down for a family dinner together a couple times a week, and the fact that she could easily escape out her bedroom’s balcony window without detection whenever she got that late-night call, but Barbara longed for her own independence. She had lived in that apartment as long as she could remember but she had begun to feel suffocated what with her father being so close. It didn’t help that she felt like she spent most of her waking hours driving back and forth between campus, the brownstone, and the manor. 

By the time she made it to the campus parking lot, she only had two minutes before her Economics of Crime and Social Problems seminar began. She quickly surveyed her surroundings. Once she had decided that no one was watching, she discretely retrieved her grapple and flew up to the sixth-floor balcony of the red brick building and entered through the wooden door into the hallway. When she had finally made it to the auditorium, she situated herself in the third row and prepared for a very long three hours that were soon to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barbara "Self-Care" Gordon will come into your house, draw you a bubble bath, and force you to eat your leafy greens whether you like it or not.  
> Thank you for reading and joining me on this fun escapade we've got going on here.


	3. To Its Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M SORRY I KNOW ITS BEEN FOREVER pls don’t hate me :)

“Is something the matter, Master Bruce?”

“Hm? Oh, no Alfred. Just trying to make sense of these market stats. Who would approve this acquisition?”

“You, sir.”

“I must really enjoy screwing myself over then.” Bruce drew a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “The board is expecting a final proposal by the meeting on Friday. And I am supposed to survey the final inspection of the new factory up in the Narrows tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t forget the university auction this Thursday evening.”

“Shit,” he muttered causing Alfred to purse his lips slightly. Bruce sat at the old oak desk in his father’s study, papers scattered in front of him, clothes damp with sweat.

Alfred set down the silver tray equipped with a piping pot of coffee. “I do not believe it will do you any good to continue staring at all that. Maybe take a stroll around the grounds; the fresh air looks especially welcoming this morning,” he added as he pulled the drapes open. “At the very least, go clean yourself up. I will not tolerate you sitting in your father’s chair with your clothes in this state.”

Bruce threw back a brooding glare but stood up anyway. He poured a massive mug of coffee and approached the window.

“Were my eyes playing tricks on me this morning, or did I perhaps see Miss Gordon’s car drive away a short while ago?” Alfred asked, maintaining his gaze on the expansive grounds.

Bruce glanced at him. “Oh. Yes, she was here.” He observed the small waterfall that guarded the secret entrance in the distance as it sprayed droplets onto the surrounding rocks. “Kind of took me by surprise down in the cave.”

“Did she now? That doesn’t happen very often, now does it.”

His response was a low, wry hum.

“Well, if she decides to make a habit out of visiting, inform her that I insist she stays for breakfast,” he leaned a touch towards him. “I hope that she does; I do believe she carries a sort of life that this place greatly needs.” He retrieved the tray from the desk and promptly exited the room.

Bruce quickly finished off his cup’s contents. He made a brusque attempt at sorting out the mess of papers and made his way towards his suite on the upper level. His joints cracked fiercely as he rolled back his shoulders when he reached the top landing.

He stripped, showered, and shaved in silence.

As he tilted his head back to tighten the sleek black tie around his neck, he frowned at the dark circles that appeared more noticeably under the crude lighting of his walk-in. He approached the mirror and pressed the ends of his fingers against the skin while Barbara’s words rung in his head. He hadn’t noticed them before, but now that she had pointed them out, they were appalling. How was it she was able to see parts of him he didn’t even know were there? The thought of her cataloging the diminutive changes of his face incited a twitch of guilt in his chest; he avoided viewing his team much differently than his business partners. The distance he maintained was simpler—not to mention safer.

Opting for a pale dotted blue tie that seemed to subtly draw attention away from his eyes instead, Bruce returned to the main study to collect his necessary papers. Meanwhile, Dick sauntered in and leaned against the sturdy wooden doorframe, a bowl of cereal propped against his chest. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Bruce replied glancing at the boy, his dark hair disheveled from sleep.

“You were still down there when I called it last night,” he took a bite of his granola, “but I take it everything went okay?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Surveyed a few possible meeting points for the mob.” He frowned. “Turned out to be mostly dead ends.” Bruce glanced at the grandfather clock against the far wall. The time read 7:35. “Are you sure you’ll be ready for school on time?”

“Oh sure, a solid five minutes and I’ll be good as gone. I leave the monkey suit stuff to you.” A splotch of milk dripped onto his blue t-shirt from his raised spoon. Dick didn’t seem to notice. “Is that a new tie?” he asked.

Bruce paused his movements for a heartbeat. He swallowed, acutely aware of how his Adam’s apple bobbed against the knot at his throat. “No,” he said. He latched his briefcase and strode towards the door. “Better get a move on, those five minutes are going fast.”

He stepped out of the man’s path. “Alright, be seeing you this evening, then.”

Bruce grunted his affirmation and took off through the great hall towards the front door.

_______________________________________

 

“…and finish up the reading on chapters twelve and thirteen by next class. See you all on Wednesday.”

The array of students immediately rose from their chairs and the room filled with the cacophony of zippers squeaking and water bottles clanging. Barbara slipped her laptop into its sleeve and gently set it in her bag. She could feel her hands shaking a bit and tried to conceal that fact by clenching her fists slightly. She descended down the stairs of the seminar hall towards the desk at the center of the room focusing on keeping her breathing steady. _Don’t stress_ , she thought. _You’ve got this_.

“Um, Professor Greene?” she asked in a voice that she hoped didn’t sound as artificially sweet as it did in her head. The middle-aged man glanced towards her and quickly turned back to continue erasing the whiteboard.

“Yes, Miss…”

“Oh, please, just call me Barbara.”

“Right, Barbara—what can I do for you?” he asked in a slightly clipped tone.

“Well, I was wondering if I could select my final project now? I just would just like to begin working on it, that’s all,” she said hurriedly.

“Already? Am I not assigning you enough work to keep you entertained?” he laughed. “What is it you’d like to choose?”

She exhaled and smiled politely. “I’d like to do the coding for the Davidson project.”

“The Davidson Project?” He seemed incredulous. “Well, hon, I think that might be a bit difficult for someone of your—maybe you should look into one of the simpler ones. I’m telling you; I’ll be saving you a lot of time spent stressing over something as complicated as that.”

She blinked. “Well, I really do think I’m capable enough. I’ve worked on much more complicated ones in my free time before I even signed up for this class; I mainly wanted a chance for a professional such as yourself to provide me with some constructive criticism.”

“Hmm, well that’s not exactly the same thing as an official project, is it.” He surveyed her patronizingly. “Alec? Could you come over here for a minute?” He addressed a young man who was just about to leave the room with a group of his friends.

Barbara knitted her brows together and turned her head to the classmate now standing beside her. She was pretty sure this was the same guy who’d sat a few rows in front of her and had been watching Breaking Bad on his laptop the whole class.

“Yeah, Prof, what’s up?” he asked as he absent-mindedly popped his knuckles.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but would you be able to help Miss Barbara over here with her final project? She’s got her heart set on the Davidson Project and I’d like it to be sure it’s up to snuff by the time term ends, you know,” he ended with a sardonic half-smile.

“What?” It was her turn to look incredulous. “Oh no, sir, I definitely don’t need that, honestly. I’m sorry to bother you, Alec, you go ahead—"

“M’kay, cool—”

“No Alec, stay. Miss Barbara, do you want to do this project or not?”

“I do, but I’m perfectly capable of—”

“I’m sure you think that right now but—”

“What are you—” she felt her cheeks burning and she let out a cough-like laugh. “Is this some kind of joke? The Davidson Project was on the list. There’s nothing wrong with me picking it, is there?”

“There isn’t, but I typically reserve ones of that caliber to the more… well equipped. I really think Alec here will be able to provide you with some great assistance if you’re really deciding to commit to this.”

“Umm, yeah,” Alec added unconvincingly.

“Am I missing something? What makes him more ‘well equipped’ than I am? We’ve only been in this class a month, and we’ve only had one test so far? How can you possibly be picking favorites already?”

“I do not condone accusations of that sort in my class, dear. My answer is no. You may not work on the Davidson Project. Please select one from the top half of the list and submit your decision along with the rest of the class by the 24th. Good day.” He grabbed his bag and grasped Alec by his shoulder and walked with him out of the room, taking his voice with it. “Now this Davidson Project could actually be a big opportunity for you, my boy if you’d like to select it…”

Barbara was left standing there alone. She felt her eyes threatening to prickle and she breathed in sharply to shut any of that down before it started; she wasn’t wasting any more energy on that stupid, stupid man. She wrenched open the front pocket of her bag and extracted her keys and left the classroom, taking some solace in the fact that she had thought of at least ten different ways she could knock him unconscious during the course of their lively conversation.


End file.
